


sure, it could look like dew, but they're laughing at you

by vulpesvortex



Category: Rebel Without a Cause (1955)
Genre: Fix-It, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 15:46:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1095771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulpesvortex/pseuds/vulpesvortex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Plato trades his life for a kiss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sure, it could look like dew, but they're laughing at you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kleenexwoman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kleenexwoman/gifts).



> Title from The Tallest Man On Earth's "This Wind".

Plato trades his life for a kiss.   
  
He doesn’t realize it at the time, of course, as he stands in the dark, the weight of Jim’s gaze and body close and almost palpable. As they stand together, only the thin gate between them, and Jim leans forward, pulling him in by the front of his own jacket.

( _Can I keep it?_  he'd asked, and Jim said yes, and that, there, had been the beginning, that had been trust.)

Jim's nose brushes the arch of Plato’s eyebrow, the skin above it, before he presses his lips gently against Plato’s temple.

Plato sways against him, unsteady, shocked, filling up. It's been so long since anybody's touched him with any kind of tenderness, long years since he got too old to ask Hattie for a hug or a kiss before bed. It hurts a little, this realization, this touch.

"Don't be scared," Jim says, into his hair, and it feels so good, it lights him up inside.

He follows Jim when he pulls away, unthinkingly, and ends up clasping at Jim's firm presence, his face pressed against Jim's shoulder.

“There now.” Jim says quietly, puts an arm around him and holds him, the partition still between them. He feels strong and safe, his slow breaths moving his ribs against Plato's. Plato can smell the laundry detergent in Jim's shirt, the sharpness of his sweat underneath.

Jim holds him, and the fear that's been clawing at the back of his throat recedes until his hands stop shaking. The ache of his loneliness wells up in him, and the knowledge that Jim will have to let go panics him temporarily. Jim could leave, like his father, like his mother, like any friend he'd never held on to for more than two days. (More than anything, he wants to keep  _him_.)

Jim is still hugging him.

Plato swallows, willing down the urge to flee. When he looks up, Jim is smiling at him in the darkness, colored lights passing over his face. "Are you alright?"

Plato nods. He feels a bashful smile tug at his lips and looks away, embarrassed.

"Do you wanna come over to this side?" Jim grins, gestures at the wooden partition between them.

"Yeah." Plato doesn't want to let go, though, and Jim seems to sense this because he pulls Plato over by the shoulder, keeping him balanced as Plato swings his legs over and thumps down quietly on the other side.

They start walking towards the light, and Plato can see Judy in the doorway, waiting for them.

"It'll be okay. Do you think we could go outside now?" Jim gives him a gentle squeeze. "Everyone's here and they all wanna know that you're okay," and Plato doesn't care, about anything, because Jim kissed his forehead and is holding him and he's ready to follow Jim, now, he thinks. He doesn't really want to think about anything else.

They walk up slowly to the hallway, where Judy hugs them both, looking relieved. She kisses Plato's cheek, quick and happy, pressing his arm with her hands. "I'm glad you're okay."

Despite Jim and Judy's comforting presence pressed tight against him, the doors burning bright with the floodlights make Plato back up. "It's too bright," he hears himself say, high, and he doesn't know what he's afraid of, really, except that there is too much light and he doesn't want to be seen. There'll be nowhere to hide in the brightness, and he always needs to hide, people will hurt him, he wants to run.

"Shhh, it's alright, it's alright," Jim says, grabbing him and holding him still. "I'll fix it, okay? I'll go out and fix it." And Jim does, though Plato does not want him to go, but Judy holds him back by his arm. When he looks at her, her smile is tremulous, and he realizes she's shaking a little.

He doesn't feel so alone.

The windows darken and Jim comes back, wraps them up again. "It's done, look, they turned it off," he says, pointing at the door.

He keeps them against his chest securely, one arm on either of their backs, and Plato can feel Judy's breath against Jim's neck, her shoulder brushing his. Plato reaches down for her hand and grins at her, a shared smile of safety, of knowing Jim's protection and affection.

Jim kisses the tops of their heads in turn. "Come on, everybody's waiting," he says gently, and marches them forward and through the door.

There are more people outside than Plato expected, but if he presses his face into Jim's neck he can pretend they're not there.

"It's alright!" Jim yells to the policemen standing by their cars, shattering the loaded silence. There's a tension in the air, in their faces, that Plato doesn't trust at all. "It's okay," Jim says, quietly, "put up your hands."

And Plato can feel Jim's hand leave his back, a surge of adrenaline running through him. He follows Jim's movement, his instruction, almost without thinking, because following Jim is easier, now, than running away. Jim is safe, and here, and out there are a million unknown other things that are inconceivably cruel compared to the kindness in Jim's eyes when he speaks to him.

He looks at Judy again, sees her easy faith in Jim's words mirrored in her raised hands, in his own.

They stand on the steps of the observatory, elbows touching, frightened but unmoving. One of the men standing by the police cars walks up to them. "Hey, Jim," he says, throwing Jim a quick, worried smile. He keeps a sharp eye on Plato, who feels his insides squirm under the scrutiny.

"He's okay, Ray," Jim says to the man, "I got the gun, I took out the bullets."

Plato feels his heart skip a beat in surprise.

He hadn't remembered the gun until now.

Plato feels betrayed as he watches Jim turn over the gun and the magazine to Ray, but Jim catches his eyes as he does it, full of apology, and a little of Plato's worry eases. As Ray takes the gun from Jim, the people standing around start running up to them, Jim's parents calling for him, and Hattie runs up and crushes Plato in a hug that nearly pulls him off his feet.

A torrent of 'What'd you do that for, John!'s and 'You scared me half to death!'s rains down on his head.

Jim is being hugged by his parents too, and scolded, his mother's voice trembling with suppressed worry. Policemen mill around them, some trying to keep the bystanders at bay, others looking at Plato and Jim and Judy with stern eyes. After a long moment, Ray pulls him away from Hattie. "You'll have to come with us, son. You've got some questions to answer."

Plato wants to struggle against Ray's hand on his shoulder, but then Jim is there, grabbing hold of Plato's wrist, Judy under his arm again. Jim's thumb is pressed against the racing pulse in his wrist; Plato wonders if Jim can feel it, the rhythm changing at his touch.

"We'll have to come too, won't we?" Jim says, not a question at all.

"Of course you will," Ray says, kind.

Ray loads them all in the back of the police car against the protests of Jim's parents and Hattie, the three of them lined against each other's sides, and it feels okay.

It feels like home.  
  
||  
  
He trades the gun for Jim’s jacket, yes, but the kiss, it’s the kiss that saves him.


End file.
